


The Boy's Too Refined

by sabriel75



Series: what I haven't written yet meme [7]
Category: Death Note, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Cross-Generation Relationship, Crossdressing, Detectives, First Kiss, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabriel75/pseuds/sabriel75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The notorious detective, Sherlock Holmes, takes too keen of interest in Light and L's affairs. He suffers a concussed head for it. Light loses his innocence. Both were bound to happen sometime though as far as John Watson and L were concerned.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy's Too Refined

**Author's Note:**

  * For [powdered_opium](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=powdered_opium).



Light refused to peel his eyes away from the falling detective. All warnings of ladylike behavior ignored, he met the sharp, mysterious gaze that had caught him unawares already once today, his senses slowing everything down to where seconds felt like years. 

He should be concerned that no expression of surprise or even question marred the serene contentment on the detective’s face, but wasn’t. Light knew the expression too well. The high of being right had overridden the barking mad, albeit brilliant, detective’s innate self-preservation.

Greasy, ebony hair, like black lightening, streaked the air between them, as the man before Light toppled backwards, his arms and body twisting with acrobatic grace. Even as he tried to right himself and failed, he looked magnificent. As if the entire situation was not out of his control, as if he had predestined every last movement down to the slight bounce of his head when it thudded against the cobbled stone. 

And yet what a satisfying crack it made and the blood now flowing freely from his head wound did nothing to stop Light from grinning outrageously down at the felled man.

The arrogant, smug bastard, of course, would blame his injuries on the punch. 

Light, however, knew he should blame the kiss. 

It had been a rather nice kiss, all things considered, now that it was over and he had been vindicated. He had not actually ever kissed or been kissed so thoroughly before. For the love of God! The man had actually stuck his tongue down Light’s throat. 

“Light-kun, we need to go.” 

The voice sent a wicked thrill through Light, especially when his feelings were all entangled with his thoughts, which were all enamored with kissing, more kissing, being kissed, or the likes of which Light had no inkling of, but certainly felt he had been missing out upon now that he had been given the barest clue that it could indeed turn out to be a quite delightful pastime. 

“Also, please remember, that ladies of good breeding do not behave as you are. Proper ladies faint at the sight of blood,” L continued exasperatedly as he slipped his hand into Light’s and gently pulled him away from the circle surrounding the World’s Only Consulting Detective.

“But he kissed me,” Light argued with fervor, “with his tongue!”

“I know,” L growled; his mood darkened angrily. “And you did nothing.”

“Now who’s forgetting I’m a girl?” Light laughingly questioned. “Besides, you reacted before I could!”

Light hooked his arm into the crook of L’s arm, making their handholding look even more intimate before giggling in character, “I should be allowed to gloat a little. He deserved to take one in the kisser for impugning my purity.” 

“That corset’s cut off the oxygen necessary for your brain,” L replied irritably, spooked by how easily a trick of Light’s guised them as just another love-struck couple strolling down the street. “When we get home, I’m burning that thing.”

Light’s spine stiffened. Tearing away from L, he walked ahead with a haughty gait. “You’ll do no such thing! It’s an import directly from France.”

“And what would you do without my feminine wiles to placate those posh clients of yours,” Light sniffed daintily, affecting ladylike disdain to perfection that some of the passersby offered him handkerchiefs and gave L accusatory looks.

“I managed tolerably well without you,” L reminded Light, giving his sashaying backside an appreciative glance before taking two long strides to walk alongside Light again and shooing away an overeager swain who thought Light needed rescuing from such appalling manners.

“Tolerably well?” Light huffed as he tried to stare down L. “Tolerably well?!” 

“That’s oxy-moronic, L, as you well know!”

“Blast it!” gasped L in satirical horror, “Shall I be locked away for misusing the English language?”

“Now you’re just trying to wind me up,” Light hissed, smartly rapping L on the wrist with gloved fingers.

L leaned in, watching amusedly as Light’s eyes widened in wonder as L’s ungloved hand stroked his cheek and L’s lips hovered next to his ear, “I do hope so, Light-kun.”

Light swayed a little, a soft sigh escaping his lips when L stepped back to give him space. A secretive smile flourished across L’s face and he gently wound Light’s arm back into the crook of his own, leading Light along and steering him around groups of curious onlookers. 

“Do you think he suspects?” Light asked, still peculiarly unbalanced and not liking the fluttery, nancy sensation his stomach seemed intent on doing. He might be dressed as a girl, but that didn’t mean he had to think like one!

L’s short, “No,” appeased him some and he chattered on. “Oh! That’s something then. Sherlock Holmes, greatest detective of all time foiled yet again by us. He’s not very good then, is he?” Light nearly skipped with glee.

“No, Light-kun. He doesn’t suspect,” L said slowly, turning to seriously look Light in the face. “I’m quite certain that he knows.”

“Oh,” and Light felt he might be sick, knowing L was right. Holmes never did anything without deliberation and now he understood the certainty in the falling detective’s eyes. It had not been because he thought L would be jealous, although L had been, but because he had confirmed his suspicions. He had found out L and Light’s secret. Their weapon of choice in the upper echelon of society, how they freely mingled where Sherlock was not always welcomed.

“Breathe Light-kun.” L’s quiet, amused tone snapped Light out of his panic and he took a huge breath of air and loosened his death grip on L’s arm, hearing L wince in relief. “He’s not going to emancipate us.”

“Emancipate us?! Do you know how many societal traditions from which we have liberated ourselves with this pretense? We’ll end up in the gaol or worse!”

“You needn’t worry,” L assured Light, using his exasperation to snap Light into walking again. 

“Hmph! He hadn’t better, because the fool kissed me. Loads of people saw him do it. He’ll be found just as guilty.” 

L laughed and caressed the inside of Light’s wrist as they entwined arms amiably again and lolled a little in their walking now that they both felt calmer.

“Why kiss me?” Light asked abruptly and L stared at him like he was daft not to know the answer. “No, L, don’t look at me that way! Why did he put himself in a position where he couldn’t make one of his famous reveals? He loves pulling stunts like that.”

Now it was L’s turn to grump huffily. “You were an experiment. Damn cheeky of him too. It’s not like he cared enough this time. He was doing it for himself. A personal slight to us for upping him in the Adler case.”

“How’s it for him?” Light thought furiously and couldn’t come up with the reasoning behind L’s logic this time, as good as he normally was following the less-famed detective. “What did he get out of it?”

“Your first kiss,” L snarled hatefully before quickly sending an apologetic nod to Light and tightening his grip on Light’s arm as he tried to pull away. “And sympathy.” L added, in a close to normal tone in hopes of mollifying Light.

Light tugged on L teasingly before allowing him to pull Light closer. Their footfalls merrily pattered upon the cobblestone street in a syncopation of their own unique making. “But why me? Wouldn’t that doctor of his let him experiment on him if he…,” Light trailed off in a blaze of flushing before L’s smirk egged him on again. “If he wanted to know what kissing a bloke was like.”

“Maybe Watson is not so obliging as you,” L asked, voice dropping intimately.

“Suppose so. I’m quite easy, aren’t I?” Light remarked, oblivious to all innuendo in L’s original statement and his own response to it. “You best hope your luck holds out. You might anger me one day and if I leave you’ll be quite distraught without me.”

“You have no idea,” L answered hazily. He was having a hard time swallowing. The conversation wrecking havoc with his nerves and showing him how Light seemed more naïve than ever despite their constant interaction with promiscuous London society.

“Not everyone can be such a toff,” Light thoughtfully expounded. “You do masterfully handle things with legitimate methods whereas Holmes prefers to use a betty and a caper. He’s quite crass, in fact.” 

Although Light carefully made no mention of how capable Holmes’ kiss had been, L saw through his pretty speech, especially when Light brought his fingers up to his lips and brushed them slightly, his forehead wrinkling in wonderment.

L slid his hand to Light’s back and navigated him up the stairs to his elegant townhome in the snooty neighborhood where all the gents lived as Mello liked to describe it and asked lightly, “Are you saying that Holmes doesn’t measure up to me?”

Another blush rosied Light’s complexion as he stammered about to extricate himself from directly complimenting L, something he did not do in a normal state of mind. “Well, you make me dress up like a girl for your own amusement; that’s not very gentlemanly,” Light answered airily, offering Wammy a bright smile for holding the door open and remaining silent as they entered.

“Are you saying you mind it?” 

“No, it’s the perfect disguise and I am the prettiest,” Light quickly explained. And he might have droned on forever about how much finesse it took to assemble a fashionable costume and how he was best at these matters and how male attentions were not so bad when the males kept their hands to themselves, but L was tired and cut into Light’s tirade with a weary nod to Wammy and a request for ice chips for his hand. 

“You’re hurt,” Light reproachfully stated the obvious. “Come on then,” and he ushered L into the master bedroom, right where L had hoped he would and where later, after certain games were afoot, Light might have confessed that Sherlock had nothing on L’s techniques in and out of the boudoir.

Until of course, L, being the social pariah he can be, asked Light quite seriously, “Y’know you aren’t really a Lady?”


End file.
